DAVE'S PEOPLE: Kissing a camel

Noontime on Harrison Avenue. Five minutes to get to work. I turned the ignition key on old Betsy and got nothing -- nothing but the lazy whisper of useless horsepower. My battery was dead. And on top of that, the bakery had been out of my favorite pastry. Could life get any more complicated?

"Hey, mister, could you spare some change? I need to get my medication," said the bystander.

"I'll bet you do," I thought. Two souls with unmet needs, loosely tethered in time like Sandra Bullock and her space station. There had to be a reason that these things happen to me.

Matters of life and death are different. I have a battery in my chest that has more juice than my car did that day. Little things chew away at you, one bite at a time, and in my case, everything takes a bigger bite.

These are the times when it is fair to ask, "Why me?" Just don't expect an answer right away.

Nina had an answer: "Could be worse." In the middle of all she survived, things beyond my comprehension, that is what she would say. From surviving war as a child to mopping the floors of St. Joseph Hospital, nothing was too much for her. "It could be worse."

I draw on that wisdom these days -- although I am struck by its simplicity. I have come to realize that nothing in my life is more important to me than sharing her wisdom with you. Nothing.

For a broadcaster, there are lots of ways to pay the bills, read the news, kiss camels. Somebody has to do it. And if that's what it takes to pay PG&E, I'll do it. But I am broadcasting on a different frequency now. I'd love to compromise, but time won't let me. In spirit, the rest of it is behind me.

That's why I brought up the camel kissing. I did that the other day. I felt the soft touch of its lips on mine, not once but a half-dozen times. It takes courage to tell you. Often, you may have wondered where my lips have been. Now you know. I may never go back. My friend Jenna Kilby has a new camel, just a kid. But he doesn't mind lip-locking for a piece of carrot. I liked it, too.

The point is, I don't know what to do with the pictures. I don't work for TV anymore and the story doesn't work on radio. So I keep the picture on my iPhone.

It stirs mixed emotions, like the coveralls I once wore to a lumberyard. They were maternity clothes, and you should have seen the face of the lumberjack when I told him. The same is true of my camel snapshot. When I showed it to an old guy at the post office the other day, he said, "Wow, it's been a long time since I've been kissed like that." Tell me about it.

The point is that I would do it again. And if things don't pick up, I might. I sometimes think the same thing about living in the Caribbean. I could do it if they had Medicare there. They don't. Similarly, the camel kiss would have value if I could find a sponsor. But who? Estee Lauder?

That's why retirement provides such opportunity. You don't have to justify a heck of a lot. Just enjoy it. You don't have to answer the station manager who would ask, "What's in it for us?" The answer is, "Nothing." What's in it for me? Everything.